


Presumed Lost

by orphan_account



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Asylum, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Badass Clarke, F/F, F/M, Multi, Tags and relationships will change as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-20 04:47:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17615777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Clarke Griffin was hoping to relax after a stressful semester working for her Master's Degree. Unfortunately for her, her hometown hosts an eccentric religious movement helmed by Thelonious Jaha, and a hidden darkness residing within Mt. Weather Asylum. Framed for a crime she didn't commit and thrown into a cell, Clarke must rely upon herself, the help of her fellow inmates, and a stalwart psychologist to resist the Cult's influence and free herself from the Mountain.





	1. The Mouth of the Beast

Cold and blackened wrought-iron gates greeted her through the window as the cruiser came to a stop. Written in what was once beautiful metal calligraphy but now pock marked and worn down was the name she'd dreaded to see.

**_Mt. Weather Sanitarium_ **

A fading relic of a time when the facility stood as a tuberculosis ward. Its past as a bastion of safety and health had long since faded into local obscurity. Below the name on the midway point of the gate was a copper placard greened with age. In tight curving letters black shellac denoted the facility as 'Mt. Weather Asylum for the Criminally Insane'. Residents of Arcadia and the adjoining township of Polaris had simply come to call it 'The Mountain'.

There was no going back now. Though it wasn’t as if she could do that even if she tried. Handcuffed in the back seat of a cruiser with corrupt cops sitting in the front. Trussed up and sent in under involuntary admittance, pending a trial she was sure would never come.

 The gates before her pulled open as the car began the final leg of its journey. Each jostle down the nearly unmaintained road pressed her bruised wrists further into the hard metal of the cuffs. Nestled in a verdant green valley the road winded between hillocks and tall pines. The limbs down low had been chopped long ago and the ground itself kept immaculately clear of forest detritus and plant life. The sloping road allowed her an unfettered view of the mountainside to the north. Cradled into the sloping rock face of the mountain itself was the Asylum. An imposing mixture of spires and imitation Victorian architecture blended at its midway into blocky walls and tall white faux marble columns. The campus buildings lay spread about in imitation of some giant animal lain low. Red clay bricks made up its hide and eggshell white bars guarded every window.

Her breath was coming in shorter and faster. She could feel the anxiety and apprehension rising up like bile in her throat with every inch gained on the building. No easy way out of this situation was presented. But panic wouldn’t help. Thoughts swirled and coalesced. Her nails bit into the flesh of her palms. Her resolve steeled and bit by bit the air threatening to suffocate her resumed a languid pace through her lungs. Despite the betrayal and loss swelling through her heart she couldn't lose herself to this fate. She needed to track her location and lookout for any sign of vulnerability. Any opening, any leeway. They might be in a position to keep her locked up for now but she would test that as soon as she could. She had lost too much to let herself suffer this without a fight.

Slowly the cruiser rolled to a halt and the engine sputtered out. Her captors exited, slamming the doors shut behind them. She couldn't let herself think of them as police anymore. With how crooked and stuck under the Cult’s heel as they were, they were no more than Jaha's hired thugs. Burly men with uniforms and weapons pointed at the least bit of dissent. Quint, a burly and balding man strewn with muscle. But intelligence to match his meathead look.  Her mind spun as he turned on his heel and unlocked her side door. As he reached in to pull her out she twisted in what limited maneuverability she had, tucking her feet up and attempting to push him back at the end of her boots. Growling under his breath as she fought he leaned in with his right arm and attempted to unbuckle and drag her out. She brought her left leg up and twisted to her right, before throwing her left foot outwards and aiming her heel at the crook of his elbow. She landed the blow with an audible thump.

 "You fuckin’ bitch!"

 Her aim had struck so that his right arm was crushed between her boot and the door frame of the cruiser. She quickly pulled her leg back and brought her knees to her chest to ready another strike. Quint’s arm pulled away as she tensed her muscles to strike. She didn't get the chance.

Quint's left hand shot out to her ankle faster than she could have imagined. Pulled taut, and finding no purchase with her hands cuffed behind her back, she was pulled partially out of the door. He reached around her and unclasped the buckle, forcefully dragging her out and onto her back. A cry tore its way out of her throat, half scream, half growl. Left leg now free she aimed a kick at his crotch, driving up with her heel as forcefully as she could manage.

"Ah, _FUCK_!" The kick had forced him backwards as he tried to cover himself and regain his footing.

Oh, that sound would give her satisfaction in the says to come. By the time she was readying herself for another kick Quint's partner had finally meandered over. Grasping her shoulder tossed her flat to her stomach as his combat boot stepped roughly into the crook of her neck to keep her in place. Growling in frustration she fought to right her body and pull her legs up underneath herself until a stronger press on the back of her neck advised her that was an unwise choice. The brief extension of energy had finally run out. Adrenaline gave way to compliance in the hope they wouldn't retaliate too roughly. She could take a few bruises but a broken neck this far from civilization proper would end her. Not to mention she firmly believed they would leave her here to die rather than make any attempt to help. In consolation she focused her mind and focused on the brief victory of harming one of the aggressors.

As the second ticked by the pressure slowly eased off her neck until it was gone completely. A pair of rough hands latched onto her biceps and pulled her up onto her feet. From behind a flat palm unceremoniously shoved forward as she was marched towards the entrance where orderlies in white awaited the procession. Quint walked in wide strides besides her while his eyes bled murder. Knowing she'd done damage to both his body and his pride she allowed herself a brief smirk. She knew she'd probably pay for that but figured it could be added to the list of imaginary sins she was already paying for.

The orderly to her right took a step forward and grabbed arm tightly.

"Welcome to Mt. Weather Ms. Griffin. We hope you'll enjoy your stay"

Clarke focused on his teeth. Pearly white, straight, immaculate. Matching his spotless uniform. Pressed and starched, bone white. So these were her jailers then. Shaggy brown hair atop his head and barely day old stubble adorning his cheeks. He couldn't have been a day over 20.

"Officers, if you'll follow Mr. Williams, we have some paperwork for you to fill out." Even his voice was young and shiny. Clipped and practiced.

The orderly to her left clasped his hands together and nodded towards her captors. While just as presentable as the other he looked rougher and yet more relaxed. His head was shaven, beard trimmed, and dark but warm brown eyes flicked gently over to her before he spoke.

"Gentlemen, I'm Lincoln Williams, inpatient assistant. If you'll come this way...?"

Lincoln turned back towards the entrance after shaking the officers hands while the orderly to her right took a hold of her bicep and walked her up the steps. The massive entrance creaked groaned in apparent age and weight as the wood was pushed inwards. Thick and heavy monstrosities that looked to have been cut from a single enormous plank before being split in half and reinforced with massive iron struts.

 Whether they were simply for looks or intended to physically reinforce the door from assault by _something_ , she found the design itself imposing. As they swung shut on ill oiled hinges behind her the reverberation when they closed shook her inside and out. This was not a place she could simply walk out of.

 A hand pulled her roughly forward over the marble floor. Portraits of men she assumed to be wardens or esteemed doctors hung against walls. Interspersed were placards and awards from times past. Halfway into the hall the walls curved into banks of doors, while flanked against either side were elegant curving wooden stairways that met in the middle of a second floor mezzanine. Nestled between the stairways and against the far wall was a simple wooden reception desk manned by a plain and pale looking girl with deep black wispy hair tied back into a loose ponytail.

 A little brass colored nameplate with black letters read Maya Vie, Receptionist. Under her name and title was a small outline of a mountain. When their eyes connected for a moment they shone hollow and saddened. If this place could reduce even a receptionist to empty shells she could only imagine how low the inmates were brought.

 The officers were led up and away on the stairway as she felt the arm guiding her peel off to the right. A pair of swinging double doors led through to what appeared to be a modestly sized waiting room paneled in reddish oak with two doors on the far side of the wall. Six old and disused chairs sat flush against the wall to her right. She was roughly positioned and seated onto the bare wooden chair, back ramrod straight. Her wrists bit into the cold metal cuffs as they were pressed between her back and the chair.

 The orderly guarding her took a seat to her right as she leaned to get a better look at him. He was thin, she noticed first off. Not abnormally thin but enough that he didn't look strong enough to stop her if she tried to make a run for it. And on further inspection what she previously presumed to be a spotless uniform showed subtle signs of wear and tear. Off white thread covering where stitching had come loose, a faint yellow mark where a bleach pen had been used to remove something. He also appeared to lack any of the common trappings of the Cult. No silver ring, no necklace with their holy icons. He looked... Normal. Or as much as one could be in this place. Every time he caught her glare his eyes sheepishly looked away and he busied himself with wringing his hands together. After a few minutes of her wordless inspection he sat straight and turned fully towards her.

"C-Clarke Griffin right? I'm Jasper. Just started last week. Almost as new as you are! Um, you uh probably don't remember, but we went to grade school together. Mr. Pike's class?"

Figuring it couldn’t hurt to at least humor him, Clarke sat back slightly and tried to place him. His face did ring with some sort of familiarity. In the manner that she’d definitely seen him more than once at some point in her past but had never bothered to pay attention or memorize who he was. After a few minutes of her inspection he began his nervous hand wringing again before Clarke turned down her glare.

"Yeah. You ran around with goggles on your head until someone snatched them off during recess. Yeah, I think I remember you."

She turned to face the far wall and slumped back as much as she could. If he was from town and working here, then he probably was somewhat involved with the Cult. Another reminder that nowhere was safe. No one was. She had to remember that. Brand it into her psyche. No one here could be trusted. Her body coming down off the anxiety and fear and adrenaline from the day, Clarke let out a strangled sigh and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the chair.

 Jasper seemed content to let her have some quiet space as he leaned himself back but kept an arm within reach to grab at her if she made a move to run. Clarke relaxed her body and contemplated the insanity that had taken over her life. With great reluctance she resigned herself to the fact that getting out of the Mountain would be arduous at best and nigh impossible at worst. Yet still a flame burned within that wouldn't let her accept herself fully to her fate.

  She _wasn’t_ crazy. She had _not_ attacked her father. She most certainly had not murdered him while screaming demonic gibberish, as her file apparently stated. S _omeone_ had ratted out her and her father to Jaha. That was all it could be. And she had a sneaking suspicion of who it had been.

 Clarke had only come back home for her summer vacation from college. Not even two weeks into it and her world had flipped apart. All she could hope for from the outside world was a professor or friend noticing her absence and causing enough of a furor for someone to be sent to find her. Her morning had gone fine, out for a jog before returning and helping with chores around the house. A stop at the urgent care clinic where her mother worked. Her mother was the chief physician of the only place for quick medical care besides the one family doctor and dentist in town.

 She had finished helping her mother around the clinic and had returned home expecting a quiet day to relax. A workout, paint if something caught her eye, maybe spend some time with her father if he wasn't engrossed in any new work. Instead, she had found the front door smashed inwards and deep gouges taken from the walls inside. After yelling for her father she'd picked up her the landline, an old cordless relic from when they first hit consumers. A butchers knife from a kitchen drawer was the closest thing to a defensive weapon she could grab. Just as she'd finally gotten someone on the line she had been bowled over from behind and put into a choke hold. Forced to drop the phone she’d swung the blade back towards the body behind her. She could only hope she'd landed a few good slashes before slipping into unconsciousness.

 When she'd finally awoken she'd been handcuffed and splattered with blood. A pounding headache and sour taste in her mouth. Her father lying before her. Unmoving, his eyes were clouded and his face was splashed with blood. At some point an officer had grabbed her up off the wooden floor and dragged her outside to a waiting patrol car. All of the while he was reading her rights she hadn't heard him. Ears filled instead with the pounding rush of her heart and mind roiling around what had happened. And now she was here. Ostensibly to await trial in one of Arcadias Cult operated kangaroo courts. But deep down she knew what this was. A silencing. If they had their way, she'd never even see a lawyer and instead slowly grow insane while trapped in the Mountain. Just another problem for Jaha's Cult swept away.

 Her introspection was cut short when her ears picked up the sound of heels clacking against the marble outside the door to the waiting room. Head turning, she watched as a young woman strutted in wearing a black two piece suit. Her dark heels clacked with military precision while intricately braided hair adorned her like a crown. Clarke sat up straight as the woman took in her surroundings as a predator would observe hunting grounds. When her head swiveled away she caught the slightest peak of a tattoo riding up the back of her neck, nearly hidden by her collar winding hair. When she turned again to face her and their eyes locked Clarke sat fully ramrod straight. Those _eyes_. It felt like they were boring straight into her.

 The woman briskly stalked over to Clarke, as Jasper attempted to move to his feet faster than his body could catch him.

 “Commander,” He stepped back slightly as if her presence extended far beyond her body and was physically pushing him back, “She yours now?”

 “I told you not to call me that. Ms. Woods, or nothing.”

 Clarke watched the quick exchange with feigned disinterest. More than likely she was a Cult hired shrink sent to pass quick judgment and sign her away to the Mountain forever. Her eyes shifted to the doors as Jasper continued edging backwards.

 “Sorry, M’am. I’ll leave you to it then?” He clapped his hands together and gave Clarke a brief nod of his head before turning on his heel and exiting the room through a far door.

 She didn’t know what to make of this interaction. Whether this woman showing up was a good thing, if the workers seemed to avoid her, or whether it was a sign that her torment had only begun.

 As Ms. Woods watched the retreating form of Jasper, she turned on her heel to fully face Clarke. A she extended a hand well coated in tell tale signs of calluses, faded bruises and scratches on her knuckles, her eyes caught the roll of Clarke’s shoulders.

 “Ah... Sorry about that.” She withdrew the hand abruptly as if she was in some way worried about possibly offending Clarke.

 “I’m Dr. Alexandria Woods.”

 Clarke sucked in her breath, matched the woman’s gaze, and stood up.

  



	2. A Broken Cog in the Machine

Wake up. Stare at the ceiling. Muster the courage to get out of bed. One glass of water, one apple. Quiet jog around the property line until the sun peeks out across the mountains. Come back inside, shower, dress, and out the door. Her routine was set in stone. And it helped. Or at least she’d lied to herself enough that it finally felt like it did. The same process every morning for the last year. Regardless of whether it was a work day or time off, the pattern remained the same. It had taken around a month before the actions became automatic. Where she didn’t feel like she was forcing her way through air so thick she could cut it.

The first day she'd arrived had been different, and definitely the hardest. She was alone now and nowhere near to those who could help her if anything happened. The anticipation and nervous energy of the night before had left her restless and irritable. First day in the Mountain. The first day seeking justice for Costia. No matter how nervous she had been she had made it through that day unscathed. No one had suspected anything, and if they had any reservations toward her it had only been because she was new. Not because they knew she was here to tear it all down. Her rational mind knew no one would have suspicions but still that first night the doubts had lingered. After working for so long with Titus on an entry and background that would be as unassuming and inconspicuous as possible there was no way anyone would know. But still her mind had wrapped itself around in knots of nervousness.

After that successful day she had resolved to keep herself grounded. Early to bed and early to rise, calisthenics and fresh food. Meditation as her schedule permitted it. Her position demanded nothing less than intensely guarded dedication. Anything else was a distraction. To her coworkers she came off as spartan and cold. Friends, family, love. Distractions and weaknesses waiting to trip her up and tear her down. And Titus was always there on the line whenever doubts and fears crept up too much. He reminded her of what was at stake. The penalties of failure. She couldn't let that happen. Wouldn't, even if it killed her in the end. The dead demanded it and living deserved it.

Except… Today. Routine was broken. Lack of emotional and physical energy left her swaddled between comforters and pillows with no urge to pull herself out of them. Salt trails from tears lay undisturbed. Thoughts fuzzy and caught on the things she had lost.

The past year had been a never ending lesson in inter-office politics, bureaucratic malaise, and stealth. Her initial plan had seemed air tight. Insert herself in the machine and break as many cogs as possible until those responsible for building it were torn apart. Surely with a track record so ominous the Mountain would be riddled with ways to destroy it. And yet, the reality had slowly set in that any justice she might receive was going to be minuscule and nowhere near enough to cover her debts. The Mountain was nigh impenetrable even as she sat in its center.

It had stolen her family. Costia was gone. Anya was in no way any closer to release than she'd been on arrival. It was increasingly obvious that any legal route would yield no movement. And any illegal method would have an infinitesimally minute chance of working.

**_BZZT BZZT BZZT_ **

Torn from her introspection by the snooze alarm, Lexa ground her palms into her eyes and sat up. Nothing would be solved by inaction.

Her routine was already broken by her late start. Choosing to flow with it she skipped the jog and set coffee to brew. Her naked lack of sleep and energy could be hidden by caffeine and makeup. The irritability and shortened temper could just roll into her work persona.

_The Commander_

She didn't know who exactly had started the nickname but in the end she had to admit that it was an apt description. Steely eyed and standing tall; she ran her Ward, patients, and workers in a purposeful and we'll oiled fashion. The easiest way to hide from scrutiny was to ensure there was never anything to scrutinize. Waiting for the pot to finish found her leaning against the kitchen island and drumming her fingers against the granite surface. She focused on the steady drip of coffee into the pot and calmed her mind. Deep breath in, deep breath out. She was awake, and second would continue to burn. Nothing to do about it besides ride it out and make the best of it.

When she finally made it to the car any lingering sadness and tension had been driven to the back of her mind. Tonight she could grieve for what she’d lost, for now she would cope and get the most out of today as she could.

The drive in was a calming exercise in itself. Regardless of the horror that had brought her here she had to admit that on morning's like this Arcadia was breathtaking. Sunlight shined through the mountain peaks and out across dense green forest and sloping granite. Ropes of mist twisted between hills and lowlands, flooding the scene with beautiful mystery. Natural beauty infused every facet of the valley. And yet, no one inside the Mountain would ever see it. None of the Cult's victims could look towards the sky and bask in the comfort of nature. Guilt sunk its hungry teeth into her gut.

She let the mask fall into place.

 

\----

 

The car door made a grating thunk as Lexa closed it behind her and began to climb the stairs to the staff entrance. She held purview over the low security inmates, among whom were a minority with legitimate mental health issues and the larger group of townsfolk from Arcadia or Polaris who had been involuntarily _admitted_ by the Cult. Their reasons for ending up here were as varied as they could be. Some had owned land the cult wanted, some spoke against it or their members. Others had done nothing discernible besides aggravating a Cult member who had woken up particularly ornery.

Each one had become the target of a lightning fast campaign of removal, hidden so far below layers of bureaucracy and testimony that even she could have trouble telling if they were there for legitimate reasons or not. To say the Cult had written the book on gas-lighting would be an understatement. The isolation and low population count of the towns surrounding Mt. Weather lended itself towards inconspicuous disappearances. With most if not all of the court and law enforcement caught up with Jaha, both Arcadia and Polaris were further isolated.

On a normal day Lexa’s morning consisted of rifling through reports and catching up with the night staff for any issues of note. Due to her late start today they had simply left written accounts for her to sift through. Personnel reports, requisition requests, notices for time off and memos. Nothing too striking lay among the shuffle besides a note to expect a new arrival sometime this afternoon. Paperwork sorted and belongings situated, she headed through the tight hallways towards the general living quarters.

Cramped administrative offices and hallways gave way to a wide open wing with white linoleum floors and plain walls. Rows of doors sat side by side, each numbered and labeled with a placard for the occupants name. A glass viewing window as well as a slot to unlock handcuffs or pass materials through were the only other adornments. Their build was more reminiscent of a jail than anything else. Slate gray metal covered in chipped and peeling white paint. Solidly built stainless steel behemoths on shrieking hinges. The orderlies and coworkers she passed on the way gave her a curt nod and wide berth. Everyone knew not to disturb her unless necessary, lest they invited her ire.

Finally arriving at her destination she paused before the door and planted her feet. This first stop was the hardest. Each morning it was all she could do to not break her calm exterior and rush in. But even that action might possibly be seen and reported to her superiors and she couldn’t allow anything to break her cover yet. Regardless of how much it hurt to not do so.

_207_

Her hand held fast on the handle. Sucking in as much air as she could handle, she pulled it open and stepped inside. Two bunks on opposite sides of the room far enough apart to take two wide steps before reaching the other. A table built into the far wall, besides a prison style toilet and mirror. Two lightweight aluminum chairs tucked underneath it. The sole occupant lay on her side facing the wall, curled up in on herself.

"Anya."

No response. A frown creased her face.

"Anya."

A short quiet hum reached her ears. Pulling the door fully shut behind her and stepping in she strode across the room and took chair that had been tucked in. Turning it around to face the bed she sat and clasped her hands together.

"Titus says hello. Tris as well. She’s doing okay, besides some bruising from needles. I'm still trying to figure out why Tsing wants her. As far as I can tell it’s just blood tests, but Tsing is still suspicious. Won't let me see the most recent reports."

At this Anya rolled onto her back and turned her head turned slightly, looking up at Lexa through tiredly slitted eyes. Her dirty blonde hair was disheveled, a faint bruise and redness was peaking by her temple.

When she spoke her voice was a hoarse whisper.

"Any word from Nyko?"

"Not yet. He's still trying to disseminate what I've gathered so far. Titus is hesitant to think it'll help. Nothing concrete."

Anya finally turned to face her fully.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep up. They've started lessening the anesthesia." she tapped at her temple with finger. "It's fucking with my memory more..."

Lexa's heart ached. If this continued... She pulled a pen from her pocket and began spinning it in agitation. Her head hung low, braids falling around her.

"...I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You're trying as much as you can. I'm not so far gone I can't see it wearing on you. It's easy to want you to just drag me out of the door but-"

"Nothings that easy," Lexa finished for her.she sat back in the chair with a sigh, pen returning to her pocket.

"Yeah.."

She stood and turned the chair around, slipping it beneath the table built into the wall.

"I'll put a note in that you're off any ECT until I've cleared you. Should give you a week or two. Before I leave today I'll try and probe Cage's office. He's been getting sloppy about locking it, just leaves Diana to close up at night. I've got note to expect a new arrival. They'll room with you til I figure out why they're in. That okay? "

Anya faced back towards the ceiling and shrugged.

"Yeah."

 

\----

 

The rest of her morning was filled with administrative duties and making rounds of the Ward. Her subordinates knew she expected excellence and made it their priority to never fail at that. A benefit of the smooth operation was the time offered to access other areas.

The Medium Security Ward held offices for the surgeons and psychologists on staff, built into the main campus building. Wrapping the top floors were halls for patients as well as converted rooms for therapy, physical or otherwise. After enough time on staff Lexa had started monitoring the coming and going of her coworkers, surreptitiously allowing her uninvited but undisturbed access to their spaces. The building's camera system lacked any direct sight into office spaces, and anything seen of her through hallways could be explained as her merely taking a walk and checking in with her coworkers. Noon today was the time to check out Emerson's office. His bimonthly meetings with Cage kept him occupied for thirty minutes at least, and the remainder of his staff was on lunch break. Though that didn't mean someone couldn't interrupt her at any time.

With open ears Lexa his office and began rooting through his filing cabinet. Most of his paperwork turned over every week, so checking this office was a limited investment. Last month she'd gotten a copy of a budget report for a program codenamed Cerberus. She had to admit that the name seemed apt. Emerson might take orders from Cage, but he guarded this man made hell with zeal. The report itself had been useless, more or less. Besides providing monetary values for guard salaries and equipment it hadn't shown anything interesting beyond the purchase of some form of tone-generator. A confusing purchase but not illegal. Still, if it wasn't something she knew about publicly the program itself might be shady enough for Titus to use or hold onto for later research.

Flipping through folders and print outs kept her agitation rising. Besides an itinerary for a business meeting with someone in Arcadia, today’s search looked like it would turn up fruitless. Any further time spent here was liable to get her caught out. A waste of her time. With a sigh she turned and left the office, attempting to calm herself with the knowledge that Cage’s office could be checked later. Hopefully that search would prove more fortuitous.

 

\----

 

The afternoon passed languidly as she filled her time with menial tasks. Amidst the rote work the PA system came over the soft music she had playing in her office.

“ _Dr. Woods, dial 208, Dr. Woods, 208_.”

With a sigh Lexa picked up the handset and dialed out. With a click the line connected and the falsely comforting voice of Dante Wallace came through.

“Alexandria, you saw the memo on the new arrival?”

“Yes Mr. Wallace.” She began spinning her pen in her free hand, leaning back into her office chair.

“She’s just arrived, give her a once over and set her through check-in. You have a spot for her, right?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Her name is Clarke Griffin, local kid. She’s in under suspicion of murdering her father during a psychotic break brought on by the stresses of her college program. She was aiming for a Masters, so don’t assume she’s a hick like everyone else around here.”

Eyebrows shot up at the information. That was _interesting._ Usually physical harm cases became Nia Queen’s purview over in the Maximum Security Ward. For someone with that accusation ending up in her hands was brand new. Her only thought as to the reasoning had to be that someone from the Cult fucked up framing her. At this point in her time here it was evident that almost anyone sent to Mt. Weather was here solely because of the Cult.

“Understood Sir.”

“Good, I’ll leave you to it.”

She placed the handset down and leaned farther back. This might prove fortuitous in her mission. If the Cult had made a mistake in their method she could potentially exploit it. A lucky break was something she sorely needed.

The trip down to inpatient processing took little time, only extended by having a quick chat with the receptionist Maya. They girl had shown a surprising amount of fear towards her when she first arrived, but had warmed to her over the past year. Lexa had taken time to get to know her, understanding that having someone who dealt with reception could be a boon in getting her information that her seniority in management would miss. With time she’d learned that Maya held no more love for the institution than she did, but was in a position powerless to really do much about it.

In this case Maya was relatively unable to lend her any knowledge. She’d been aware of who Clarke was just from living in town but had no insight as to what would land her here, general temperament, or any other tidbits. She did let her know that apparently Clarke had assaulted the officers who had brought her in, wounding one enough that he was now seeing on of the on staff doctors for a rather brutal pain in his groin.

With a practiced grace Lexa opened the door to the holding room where her new patient was. Looking around briefly she confirmed that the woman she assumed to be Clarke and the orderly who had brought her in were the only people in the room. She locked eyes with the woman and briefly looked her over. The woman looked like whatever fight she might have had earlier was gone. Wild blonde hair was spilled every which way, makeup running down her in face in dried rivulets. Fierce, but nearly broken was her assessment.

As she walked over the orderly stumbled ungracefully to his feet. He was new, hired on as a recommendation from Maya.

“Commander, she yours now?”

Ah, what a perfect way to start a conversation with a scared woman in a place stifled with fear and veiled threat. Her eyes narrowed and she raised her voice slightly in response.

“I told you not to call me that. Ms. Woods, or nothing.”

Suitably chastised just by her tone he made his apologies and quickly headed out. When he’d left she turned toward the sitting woman and extended her hand. When Clarke failed to return a handshake her eyes leapt to her arms and she realized her mistake. _Goddammit._ Not even two minutes into this and she was already making a terrible impression.

“Ah... Sorry about that. I’m Dr. Alexandria Woods.”

The woman before her seemed to search her eyes for a moment before heaving in a deep breath and standing up. Locking eyes once again she spoke.

“Clarke Griffin,” she leaned back on one foot as her eyes shined with thinly veiled distrust, “Though I guess you already knew that.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that both our Heroines have been introduced, it's off into the story proper.


End file.
